


Her Majesty's Musketeers

by erinsgirl



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Slight spoilers, friendship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-17 21:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17568563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinsgirl/pseuds/erinsgirl
Summary: aka Five times Queen Anne was a friend to a musketeer.





	1. Porthos

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been meaning to post this story for a while but life and everything else sort of got in the way. I'll try to update once a week. (I have the other chapters mainly done it's finding time to edit and post, that's the problem.)  
> Some of you know that Anne's my favourite character and one of the things I wish we saw more of is her relationships with each of the musketeers. We know why she's so fond of them but the musketeers' perspective isn't as demonstrated (ok Aramis' appreciation is fairly well understood). Their loyalty is more than just because she's queen (they side with her over the king on a few occasions) so I thought I'd give each of them a moment to show why they would do that.  
> Hopefully you'll all enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been meaning to post this story for a while but life and everything else sort of got in the way. I'll try to update once a week. (I have the other chapters mainly done it's finding time to edit and post, that's the problem.) 
> 
> Some of you know that Anne's my favourite character and one of the things I wish we saw more of is her relationships with each of the musketeers. We know why she's so fond of them but the musketeers' perspective isn't as demonstrated (ok Aramis' appreciation is fairly well understood). Their loyalty is more than just because she's queen (they side with her over the king on a few occasions) so I thought I'd give each of them a moment to show why they would do that.
> 
> Hopefully you'll all enjoy.Apologies for any formatting issues. I'm still getting use to this site.

* * *

 

< **1625\. Pre-Series. Post-Savoy**

Porthos curled his fingers into his hands, fighting the urge to drive a fist into the bastards' faces. He forced himself to stare straight ahead. He was not going to let them know they were getting to him. And he certainly wasn't going to shame Captain Treville. The man had done so much, given him a chance to prove himself. Porthos wasn't going to let him down.

A newly commissioned musketeer brawling with red guards at a palace party in front of the royals would probably do both.

"How desperate is Treville? Hiring half-breed mongrels and brutes."

He tried to grab a glimpse of Athos, somebody from the regiment. A reminder that there were good men present. Actual soldiers. A reminder of why he was here.

"Well it's not like he had a choice. All the best ones went and got themselves massacred while they were training."

"Guess 'best' wasn't that good. Couldn't even last 'til a real fight."

"Is something the matter?" The new voice arrived just as Porthos' self-control failed. All three men immediately straightened and bowed in the presence of the queen.

"No, Your Majesty. We were just checking that the security was still sufficient. Most of the musketeers are new. Wouldn't want something to happen because of rookies, since the experienced ones are all dead."

Queen Anne smiled. To Porthos it only showed politeness but if he looked closely, he thought there might be a possible coolness as well. "Your concern is noted but I'm sure Captain Treville has everything in hand. The king appointed him Captain of the Musketeers for a reason. Questioning Treville or his men could be misconstrued as questioning the king. Which would be treason."

Porthos stifled a grin at the look on the idiots' faces.

"We'd never question His Majesty," one of them spluttered.

"Of course not," the queen interjected smoothly. "You were concerned for his safety, and commiserating with this soldier on the loss of his colleagues. And now that such matters have been alleviated, you can return to your duties. After all, it would not do for something to happen because the red guards were not at their posts."

The pair couldn't bow low enough or flee fast enough. Porthos expected Queen Anne to move on but instead she lingered. "I'm sorry if they upset you, Monsieur…" she paused, her expression turning slightly contrite. "Forgive me, I don't know your name."

"Oh, eh, it's Porthos, Your Majesty." He didn't expect her to remember it by the end of the conversation. She was royalty after all. Individual musketeers and their names didn't mean anything to her.

"I am sorry if they upset you, Monsieur Porthos."

He caught his shrug. "I'm used to it." That didn't sound like the right thing to say to a queen. "I mean it takes a lot more than that to upset me."

"I do not doubt it. Musketeers are not so easily defeated. But that does not excuse their behaviour." She glanced coolly in the direction the guards had gone. When she turned back to him, her features softened. "Whatever happened, those musketeers died honourably in service to their king and country. They deserve nothing less than respect and gratitude.

"Were you close to them? Were any of them friends in particular, I mean."

Porthos was about to correct her, tell her that he had still been a cadet, only weeks at the garrison and not especially liked because of his skin colour. But an image of Aramis flashed through his mind and stopped him. The only person who had treated Porthos the same way he had treated everyone. And who had become unrecognisable to the man he'd only casually interacted with.

"Yeah, I lost a friend."

"I will pray for him." It was more than prayer Aramis needed but Porthos thought he'd like the idea of the queen praying for him. He thanked her.

Porthos tried to study her without showing it. Queen Anne was Spanish. The raiding party responsible were her own countrymen. Possibly on her brother's orders. But as far as Porthos could tell she genuinely mourned for the men lost.

Maybe that was why Captain Treville was so fond of her. It was known that she was always respectful and courteous to the soldiers that served Their Majesties. That she often sided with Captain Treville and credited the regiment in front of the king had earned her a unique respect and loyalty from the men.

It was the first time he'd been in such close quarters to her. She was young but that meant little to Porthos. He'd grown up in the Court of Miracles. Young didn't mean anything but lacking the experience to not die.

She was much more serious than the king. Quieter too, but there was something in her manner that Porthos liked even though he couldn't put his finger on it.

Queen Anne paused as she moved away. "About what those men said."

"It's fine Your Majesty."

"I have known Captain Treville since before there were musketeers. Even if there was only one able man in all of France, he would not let him wear that pauldron if he did not believe that man was anything less than deserving of it. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

The words hit him harder than expected. He believed he was capable alright but knowing the queen had faith if not in Porthos himself, at least in Captain Treville's judgement, believed he thought Porthos a just candidate, was approval he hadn't expected.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

She smiled as she left to re-join the party. Porthos watched her go. He didn't know what it meant to her, the conversation with a lowly musketeer. She probably saw it as good manners, offering her condolences to a member of the regiment.

To Porthos, it showed that he had made the right choice. It was worth being a musketeer, fighting for France, serving under a respected captain like Treville, defending a good monarch like the queen.

The king had been amused at the idea of someone like Porthos in his musketeers. Queen Anne didn't seem to care about his background one way or the other. He liked the king's good-natured cheer and exuberance. He might like the queen for better reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know what you think, not only about the chapter but if you have any opinions or insights into the friendships of queenie and the musketeers feel free to state it.  
> Also I have a question for my lovely readers. I recently came across fandoms being sorted into the four Hogwarts houses and it got me wondering. (Keep in mind it's been a long time (years) since I read the books and based on both good and bad qualities of the houses.)  
> Treville: Gryffindor - Bravery, chivalry, strength of will.  
> D'Artaganan: Gryffindor - Daring, courage, reckless. Honestly I can't see him anywhere else.  
> Louis: Gryffindor - Bravery, arrogance, self-absorbed.  
> Porthos: Gryffindor/ Ravenclaw/ Hufflepuff - Honestly the only house I can't make a case for is Slytherin.  
> Athos/ Aramis /Anne: Gryffindor/ Ravenclaw/ Hufflepuff/ Slytherin - I think I could actually make a case for each of them in any of the houses.  
> Constance: Gryffindor/ Hufflepuff/ Ravenclaw - more the first two than the third but a case could be made.  
> Milady/ Richelieu/ Rochefort: Slytherin - All of them have cunning, ambition, resourcefulness, pride and a high level of self-preservation.  
> Sylvie/ Ninon: Ravenclaw - Intelligence, love of knowledge, high standards.  
> Please be respectful of other opinions if you don't agree with them (especially other reviewers as it's unfair to argue with them in the reviews especially when they may not be able to do so themselves) but by all means please let me know what you think. Not everyone is a perfect fit for a particular hat.


	2. D'Artagnan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly thank you for all the lovely reviews and kudos. It means a lot. 
> 
> This chapter was a little more awkward to write. I can easily see Anne having something in common with all the other characters but D'Artagnan (and Louis, but that's a different issue). However she does understand Constance's side in their story (and D'Artagnan probably has her thinking about someone) so this chapter sort of arose out of that. Also I'm pretty sure D'Artagnan had absolutely no subtlety when he talked up Constance for the job of Queen's confidante.
> 
> I realise this chapter kind of contradicts Anne's status as co-captain of the HMS Constagnan ship, but this is early S2 when Constance is still refusing to get romantically involved with him again. I think at the end of the day Anne just wants to see her friends happy and this is her attempt to do so, given the current mindset and circumstances of everyone.

 

* * *

**Post 201/202**

D'Artagnan grimaced as Constance stalked off. Even with her now in the palace and away from her husband, they couldn't hold a civil conversation. It seemed everything he said only sparked her anger these days. Which was unfair because she was the one who had ended it.

He schooled his face into respectful neutrality as the queen approached. Her eyes might have caught a glimpse of Constance in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. He decided she must not have because her greeting was as pleasant as ever.

"If you do not need to return to the garrison immediately, would you walk with me a few minutes. I have something I wish to discuss with you." As it happened he didn't need to return immediately. He was also certain the captain would sell him straight back into slavery if he found out D'Artagnan had ignored a request of Her Majesty's. He dutifully followed her through the gardens, her ladies a few paces behind, just within earshot.

"I wanted to inquire about General De Foix."

D'Artagnan lowered his gaze. It still stung that rescuing the general from a Spanish prison had not been enough to save him. They had only managed to ensure he die a free man in his own country. The queen read the answer in his face. "I am sorry to hear it. He was a brave and loyal man. I understand he had a sister?"

The reminder caught him off guard for a moment. If the queen had noticed anything though she did not let on. "I would like to write to her, to give her my condolences and offer her help should she need it."

"I don't think she does, Your Majesty. I understand the general provided for her. But I'm not sure. Captain Treville would know."

"Then please ask him to send the address to me.

"I also wanted to thank you for your loyalty and defence of the king recently." The words took him by surprise. While the others had praised him for his efforts, the king had only criticised and berated. The entire affair had been twisted, in his mind his soldiers were the ones to blame. He quickly recovered. "The king will always have my loyalty and protection, no matter the circumstances."

"As would only be expected by a true musketeer," she smiled warmly at him. "Nevertheless, I offer you my whole-hearted thanks, not only on my behalf but on the dauphin's and France. You demonstrated the bravery and dedication of the musketeers yet again."

He bowed his own thanks before falling back into step with her.

"I am not the only woman who thought so." He nearly tripped over his feet at the low words. The queen certainly noticed but she hid her smile.

"I also must thank you for your recommendation of Madame Bonacieux. Constance has proven herself invaluable more than once, already." D'Artagnan perked up at the mention of Constance.

"I knew she would! I mean, she has always been brave and reliable. As a friend. To the regiment. We all admire her."

"I do not doubt it. And the feeling is clearly mutual. She speaks very highly of you all."

Constance spoke to the queen about them! About him? "I'm glad that Cons- Madame Bonacieux thinks so well of us." _What did she say about me?!_

It was as if his thoughts could influence Her Majesty. "Indeed. In fact, she was most vocal in her defence of you during the recent uncertainty. She knew you would protect His Majesty beyond reproach."

It took a moment for D'Artagnan to realise he was grinning from ear to ear. He tried to turn his glee down. "I will thank Madame Bonacieux for her kind words. They mean a lot."

"I would imagine so." The queen was smiling kindly, but the amusement dancing in her features made D'Artagnan want to squirm. "Your Majesty?"

He fell back into step with her. D'Artagnan noticed her ladies had fallen slightly behind and the queen was still smiling. "As I said I must thank you. Constance is more than I could have hoped for in a confidante and has lived up to almost every word of your description."

"Almost?" It was out before he could stop himself. If it was rude the queen still smiled.

"Well when one is looking for a confidante and messenger, discretion, sense and dependability are highly desirable qualities. A smile that outshines all others is not quite as necessary." D'Artagnan's head sagged. The queen knew he was in love with Constance.

"Your secret is safe with me," the queen promised.

"Everyone who matters already knows. And I'm won't apologise for my feelings. Or hide them."

"I don't think there is ever any reason to apologise for love, but you may need to be cautious. Constance is a married woman."

It still stung to hear. "Her husband doesn't love her, not the way I do. He doesn't make her happy."

"Perhaps not," Queen Anne allowed. "But fighting with her about it is unlikely to make her happy either." So, the queen did know about their argument. Now D'Artagnan realised the true reason she had asked him to accompany her.

"With respect, Your Majesty, what does that matter? Constance should be free to love even if she is married."

"And if I were to dismiss her from her position for it."

D'Artagnan hesitated slightly. He knew Constance enjoyed her role. "Would you do that?"

"No," the queen replied easily. "But there would be many who would think I should and I fear some who may make difficulties for her here because of it." D'Artagnan frowned. Half the nobility were having affairs with each other. Why should Constance be the one to suffer for the same thing?

"Love in any form should be cherished. It can often be unexpected and challenging and surprising. But it can often give you the most precious of gifts." The queen's face had taken on an extra fondness and warmth. She was thinking of the king, perhaps, or the dauphin. "But sometimes that love is not in the form one expects. You say Constance should have the freedom to love. Then she should have the freedom to choose how to manage and express her love."

"I want her to be happy. I would make her happy."

"I believe you would." The simple sincerity in the words surprised him. He was speechless. "But you are not making her happy by forcing her to love the way you want her too. Love is never love unless it is freely given. No matter how much we wish for it."

"I know that!" He was on dangerous ground, but the fight had already left. Waning frustration only remained. "I love her."

"And I believe she loves you though I cannot say in what way." The queen stopped gazing at him straight on. He wasn't sure what to call the emotions that swirled just under the regal mask, but he sensed what she was saying was very important. "I have only known Constance for a short time, but I already know she does not act or speak without reason or feeling.

"I hope that you and Constance will have a future together, D'Artagnan. That some day you can find happiness together. But today is not that day. For now, let it be that you love her. There is joy and sustenance in knowing love, don't burden it. It is too rare a gift."

He blinked at the hint of melancholy. Didn't the queen know love? He never thought about it really. She was the queen, love - the kind he had for Constance – never seemed to occur, not to his mind anyway. Did people love queens, the way common women were loved? The king did surely?

And was she right? Was he hurting Constance trying to convince her to leave her husband. He winced as he remembered the look on her face when she saw him kissing Lucie.

Her ladies-in-waiting were catching up. D'Artagnan bowed his departure. "Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kind and wise words. I'm glad Madame Bonacieux has such a compassionate and determined friend."

"Madame Bonacieux has many friends, but I do not think she would mind more. Please remember my message." He took his leave, his mind whirling. If he couldn't be Constance's lover, he would her friend for now. At least the queen was on their side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been interesting reading all your opinions, especially on my Hogwarts question, so I have another one for you guys.
> 
> What two characters, male and female, (major or minor) would you choose for each element.
> 
> Air: Quick-witted, Independent, Outspoken, Impulsive, Restless - D'Artagnan and Constance
> 
> Earth: Reliable, Loyal, Practical, Stubborn, Rigid - Athos and Flea
> 
> Fire: Confident, Charismatic, Passionate, Temperamental, Obsessive - Aramis and Milady
> 
> Water: Empathic, Loving, Adaptive, Emotional, Highly Sensitive - Porthos and Anne
> 
> As always let me know what you think.


	3. Athos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, read, and left kudos so far.
> 
> Athos might be a bit more informative than usual here, but he's been caught at a vulnerable moment and I think 'divided loyalties' is something he and Anne have in common so hopefully it isn't too OOC. Also I realise the deaths might be off for Charles' death but I'm taking creative licence. The show's timeline is a little different to history's, so mine will be too.

* * *

 

**Set between episodes 4 and 6, Season 2**

His head would not stop ringing. Athos grunted in annoyance as he forced himself up.

"Be careful. Move slowly."

The voice was familiar though he couldn't place it. Soft and feminine. A woman, but not Anne. He still knew her voice anywhere and that was not it. Liquid – not wine – pressed against his lips, slipping down his throat. He opened his eyes and promptly squeezed them shut at the assault of light and brightness.

Whatever he lay on was unusually soft. The pounding in his head was now underscored with an ache at the side. He ran a hand over his head. His lips twitched slightly when he hit a bump. A gentle tug on his wrist, pulled it away.

"It should heal. Are you in any pain? Can I get you anything?"

The voice, it was so familiar. Athos forced his eyes open again. Delicate features swam in front of him before suddenly sharpening into focus. Athos' eyes widened, and he bolted upright. "Your Majesty!" The room tilted dangerously. His head pounded harder.

He ignored the nausea and forced down the bile that rose as he bowed. No matter how kind and merciful Queen Anne was, Athos was not going to test her forgiveness by throwing up on her in her own apartments. Even if she was dressed as a commoner.

"My deepest apologies for my behaviour, Your Majesty. I assure you, it will not happen again. I won't inconvenience you any longer."

His face burned with embarrassment. What had he done! To disgrace himself and his regiment in such a way. His last recollection was having taken to a tavern not usually frequented by musketeers, with every intention of drinking until he could no longer do so. He could not remember how he had ended up in the queen's private sitting room!

She waved his apologies away. "You have nothing to apologise for. Please sit back down. I do not think you should be standing." Her expression tightened slightly when he did not move. "I order you to sit." He could not ignore a direct order from the queen no matter how gentle.

Athos was torn. He did not feel at all comfortable sitting opposite the queen as if one of her ladies or even a courtier. Neither did he entirely trust himself to leave her quarters without collapsing in a heap and making a further fool of himself.

"How are you feeling now? I must confess, I did fear the worst for a moment even though I know you and your friends have surmounted far greater odds."

"I'm fine," he realised that she likely wouldn't entirely believe it, given the situation. "Just a slight headache. And I don't quite remember the details of what happened." He made the confession as lightly and scant as he could. He didn't want to worry her, nor did he want to say something he shouldn't, but he needed to know how he had gotten to the palace.

Queen Anne didn't seem to mind it. She smiled warmly and nodded absently. Her eyes darted back to his throbbing head, examining it carefully. "I am not surprised. Three men set upon you. You were hit so hard the bottle broke. That's why you smell so strongly of wine." She was sympathetic. Athos decided it might be best not to correct her assumption that the smell of wine was solely from the attack.

"Even with your injury, you still managed to hold them at bay, though Constance did assist. We brought you back here. It is much closer than the garrison." Her gaze turned back to his with knowing sympathy. "We were not seen. We thought it best to be discrete."

"You should not be outside the Palace, especially at night, Your Majesty."

"It is my decision where I go and when." There was a moment of silence. The queen had not liked his reprimand. Athos had been sharper than he should have been. The sudden realisation making him speak before thinking or remembering his place. But his concern was justified. Constance – however capable – was not sufficient escort for the Queen of France, especially with the recent animosity towards Spanish citizens.

"Forgive my manner, Your Majesty. But with the recent… tension… towards Spain and the king's kidnapping and near enslavement, you must understand how dangerous such an act is."

She accepted the apology graciously. "I know you were only thinking of my safety and well-being. It is not a habit of mine, I assure you but necessary in this case. At least you did not call me foolish." The last sentence was said so softly that Athos knew he was not meant to hear it. The queen's already brilliant smile brightened into something more.

At the very next chance, he was going to stab Aramis. He wasn't sure why, exactly, but he was certain the idiot needed some point driven home, better by Athos' blade than an executioner's.

The queen explained that Constance had gone to fetch the others. He didn't like the idea, but he would need their help to get back to the garrison. The room still moved more than it should. The queen watched him carefully. A few more awkward moments passed in silence.

"Who is Thomas?" Apology and curiosity chased each other across the queen's face. "You mentioned the name Thomas and a birthday." Athos' eyes widened as he recalled why he had escaped to the inn in the first place. He must have betrayed himself more than he realised because she was immediately contrite. "Forgive me. It is not my business. You do not need to tell me."

_What else had he said? What else had he given away?_ The queen didn't press any further, but Athos could see the lingering questions in her eyes.

"Thomas was my brother. It's his birthday today."

"And he died?"

The tender tone didn't dull the pain. "Yes."

"Oh. So did my brother."

His gaze immediately locked on her. How had that not been known! What it meant was too important. "Not Philip," the queen corrected, having guessed his thoughts. "Our younger brother Charles. A riding accident. I only just found out."

"I'm sorry."

She accepted the sympathies with a sad smile. "Thank you. I do not know how much you know of the relationship of my brothers, but I imagine you know enough."

Athos gave his confirmation in silence, not sure what else to say. He knew little of the Infante Charles, but he believed the man was Spain's Gaston. Of questionable temperament and loyalty to his sovereign and brother.

The queen rose, pacing the room as if no longer able to sit still. "It's all court can talk about since the news broke. The council are beside themselves. Who else can they encourage to rise up against Philip now." The words were uncharacteristically bitter. He shifted uncomfortably. The queen was upset and grieved by the news and it was likely the cause of her indiscretion. He would not betray her, nor did he judge her feelings on the matter, but he had no idea what to do or say to a mourning young woman. Aramis was much better at this kind of thing. He realised what he had just thought. Why did Constance have to go get the others!

"Is your brother's death why you became a musketeer?" Athos had not expected the question though he supposed it was logical. He wanted to beg off. The queen was too generous to demand he answer. Indeed, she did not seem to expect him to reply at all.

He stopped. Unshed tears glimmered in the candle light of the room. The queen was not asking out of idle curiosity or a desire for macabre and scandal. She was a young woman mourning the death of a beloved sibling and trying to make sense of it. Wine still heated his blood, his head still throbbed, and the room still spun. A flash of sympathy and weakness struck him.

"It is in part, Your Majesty. After Thomas died" _and Anne_ "I was no longer suited to the life I had."

"He would be proud of you."

Athos managed to stifle his snort. Thomas would not feel pride at his drunk of a brother whose foolishness and recklessness in love had led to his death. Nor in that same brother who still loved his murderer. The queen seemed to sense his disbelief or perhaps he had given more of himself away without realising it. Goddamn head injury.

"It is not easy to be a sister, or a brother either I imagine." He exchanged a polite nod. The queen grew more serious. "I love my brothers, all of them, my sister as well. And I will always hold Spain and its people in my heart. But I do not condone or support their actions towards France or her people. Or in other matters either. I suspect they would express similar disappointment in some of mine." She glanced away. Athos pretended not to notice the bittersweetness in her voice.

"I do not know the particulars of your relationship with Thomas, but I have seen what kind of brother you are. I have no doubt you loved your brother and he loved you. Whatever choices either of you made does not diminish that affection."

He wanted to believe her. To think that Thomas would still love him, still want to call him brother, even after the destruction Athos had invited into their lives. The thought of that forgiveness might actually hurt more.

And what of Anne. Were those same messy ties and feelings of brotherhood similarly mimicked by marriage?

Indistinct murmurs drifted through the doors.

Queen Anne paused, "If you will not believe your queen, at least believe your family." Athos lingered as Her Majesty welcomed the others. He heard sounds but nothing distinct. He was still under the affects of the blow he had received.

Aramis appeared in front of him. "That is quite a bump you have. As always, mon ami, you excel beyond the ordinary, in everything you do. Even in being injured." If not for the two women present Athos would have excelled in finding certain words to describe Aramis.

But he had not missed the note of concern, only barely wrapped in the other man's seemingly teasing words. Nor did he miss the worry in D'Artagnan's eyes or the way Porthos stood nearby, ready to subtly steady him if needed. Brothers who cared despite knowing his misdeeds.

He stopped in front of the women once more. "Thank you for coming to my aid and for allowing me to recover here. Again, I apologise for the inconvenience it caused you."

The queen smiled. "No apology is necessary, Athos. You and your friends have done so much for France, any small aid that can be given in return is freely done so and well deserved."

"Don't mention it," Constance simply said.

"Never the less you have my gratitude." He bowed as carefully as he could. Her Majesty nodded, having understood the full extent of his thanks. Whether what she had said was true or not, he appreciated her efforts to comfort him. She was a good woman however divided her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone playing my game so far. You've all got some really incredible points. I have a slightly different question this week. What animal would you associate with our characters?
> 
> Athos - Cat. It might be all those Grumpy Cat comparisons but it does fit - independent, intelligent, sharp claws, aloof but affectionate.  
> Porthos - Bear. I'm not sure what kind though. A cuddly one.  
> D'Artagnan - Dog. Boy's basically a Labrador/ Retriever puppy in human form.  
> Aramis - Not sure. A bird maybe? Something that's cute and cuddly and playful but very dangerous if provoked.  
> Treville - Hawk/ falcon/ Eagle. He has that sharp gaze and he's always on his balcony watching over his men.  
> Constance - She-wolf. Loyal, den-mother, fiercely protective of her pack.  
> Anne - Not sure. I can see her as something really friendly and gentle or fierce and regal.  
> Louis - Peacock. Associated with royalty and lots of colourful plumage. Show-off.  
> Richelieu - Cat as well. Independent, intelligent, aloof and will eat you to survive, no problem. Fun fact the real Richelieu loved cats and even left money in his will to his own to ensure they were taken care of.  
> Rocheforte - Snake. Definitely a cold-blooded reptile.  
> Milady - ? There's a few things but they don't entirely fit. Chameleon is probably the best description for her.
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	4. Treville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the interest. I've loved reading all your suggestions for what animals our fave characters would be, there are some great ideas. It's amazing how we all have different interpretations and they all fit.
> 
> To me Treville is a man who needs a purpose. He sees it as being a soldier and defender of France and her sovereign. Given the way things end S2 and how they are in S3 I thought he might be questioning things a bit so this chapter reflects this mindset.

* * *

  **Post season 2**

The palace took on an eerie impressiveness at night. Former Captain of the Musketeers - now Minister of War - Treville paced the corridors quietly. Since war with Spain had officially been announced – and he had taken on a new role and quarters – it was a habit he had acquired. His mind was too busy to sleep. Instead he patrolled the Louvre, ensuring its security. An achievable task to focus on, in place of so many unachievable ones.

"Treville." The soft, quiet voice was not quite a whisper. Treville immediately bowed at the sight of the queen.

"I find sleep often alludes me these nights," she answered his unspoken question. "And at the moment so to for my son," she nodded at the bundle in her arms. The child was wide awake, his tiny arms flailing, little hands waving, miniature fingers clenching and unclenching.

The dauphin's newly appointed governess stood respectfully nearby. Her Majesty had been more reluctant than usual to be parted from her son. Treville searched the boy's face. He could only see the queen. He wondered if that was because fortune only allowed the boy's mother to be seen or if it was all Treville let himself see. He feared Rochefort's scheming had done more damage than just war with Spain.

"I think sleep may be alluding us all for some time to come Your Majesty."

Anne was silent as she gazed into the night. "Do you really think the war will last?"

He didn't know what to say. King Louis was justifiably furious at the Spanish intrusion and interference He wouldn't be easily appeased this time and even the previous peace had been fragile. He decided to give her the truth. "I hope so Your Majesty."

"I feel like this is my fault." It was a whisper, but he caught it.

"This war is not your doing Your Majesty." She gave him a look. Queen Anne played her role as sovereign flawlessly. Treville counted himself fortunate to be one of the few who was trusted to know the woman who wore the mask as well, in private moments such as this.

"Whatever others may say, I know you have always acted in the interest of peace."

She smiled. "Thank you. Just as I know you have done the same. I feel better having you here."

Constance had left the palace for the garrison. He should be with her, not making the opposite trade. He tried to hide his thoughts, but the queen guessed them. "I know you feel uncomfortable in your new role as minister. When the king first offered you the position you claimed you weren't a politician and too blunt for diplomacy. I think we could do with less politicians at court and more honest men, now more than ever. You may not believe yourself suitable, but I can think of no one better. I know I am not alone in my thinking."

His heart tightened. The regiment had left for the front only days ago. Already Treville wondered how many of the men he had recruited and trained, had he seen for the last time. Again, the queen correctly read his thoughts. "You worry for them. I do too. I include them in my prayers, but I have faith that they will survive this."

He hoped more than believed. He had seen too many battles and too much war to fully allow himself to hope. He had captained these men. As good as they were, there had always been a risk they would not return from their latest mission. That their next fight would be their last.

His thoughts turned from the collective to the individuals. He had no regrets about appointing Athos as captain. If Treville could not lead them into battle himself, there was none more than the former comte he would want to do so. Porthos and D'Artagnan would watch the man's back and be friends, soldiers and lieutenants where needed.

He worried most about Aramis. It was ridiculous. Holed up in a monastery, Aramis was the safest, away from the front. It was the best place for him, especially in light of recent events. But the thought left Treville unsettled. Aramis had always been more reckless than he should but Athos and Porthos had had a knack of limiting the impulse to a degree. Or more accurately helping fix the worse of the damage and ensuring Aramis didn't get himself killed. In turn Aramis had often returned the necessary help in kind, treating the emotional and physical wounds of Athos as best he could and supporting Porthos in commission, brotherhood or general mischief so the big man was not alone. What impact would his absence have on the other three? Would it be what finally, permanently separated the Inseparables?

There was another reason Aramis' resignation pricked uneasily at Treville. Aramis had been one of the original commissions. With his departure and Treville's own parting, there was none who remined of that time. No one but Serge who remembered the original oaths and determination. It was as if the musketeers were no longer his. The regiment had been such a large, important, constant in his life, the realisation left him feeling unbalanced. He could no longer watch over his men. He was no longer a musketeer.

"They **will** survive this," Anne insisted, sensing his dark thoughts. "They are brave and loyal and skilled. Musketeers do not die easily."

In the darkness of the night and lateness of the hour, Treville could not find it in him to humour her. She would not want it anyway. "In war that is not always enough, Your Majesty."

"They have each other. And they have _**you**_."

He couldn't hide his surprise or his doubt. What could he do, here in Paris.

"You have trained them well. You have thought them courage and loyalty and honour. You may not fight with them now, but you taught them how to fight. And you may not be fighting on the front with them in body, but you will be fighting a battle in spirit, here at court for them. The king needs you here to advise him how best to fight this war. Your men, these soldiers need you here to ensure they are adequately supplied and assigned. France needs you here, you know more about war and soldiering than anyone else at court.

"Your battleground is **here,** _**Minister.**_ Your men do not need you to fight with them. They need you to fight _**for them**_."

The queen had always spoken less than the king. Had always been quieter, more serious, soberer. It had been clear even as a girl. But when she spoke her words were just as powerful. She stared at him for a moment the full weight of what she had charged him with in her gaze.

Treville was a soldier. He had sworn his life to crown and country. And he would serve them however he could. His queen needed him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's question: what kind of superpowers would our characters have.  
> Athos - heated vision.  
> Porthos - super strength.  
> Aramis - he sort of already has it with his sixth sense so I'm going with super senses or healing powers.  
> D'Artagnan - talks to animals.  
> Treville - immortality.  
> Constance - none. She doesn't need any. Also she has common sense.  
> Anne - psychic. Empathy or clairvoyance.  
> Milady - teleportation or enthrallment.  
> Grimaud - teleportation. Man already has invulnerability.  
> Louis - being king already is a superpower I guess.  
> Dauphin - invisibility or intangibility. Kid sneaks around better than anyone.  
> Cardinal - illusions.  
> Any one has any other ideas let me know.


	5. Aramis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. Ironically this was the hardest chapter to write even though the characters have the most interaction with each other (re Queenie interacting with a musketeers). Because we see their relationship a lot more and can understand the ties there more I wanted to do something a little different. I hope you like.

 

* * *

 

**Set During 3x10 (Flashback pre-109)**

Even the fresh air still smelt like smoke. Aramis slowly swung his gaze across the still-smouldering shell of the former garrison. There was nothing to save of the structure. All of their belongings, their tools, their equipment was gone.

All that remained were a few survivors that had called it home and they would be less still by the time night fell.

A loud bang echoed behind him. His pistol was already in hand before he registered the palace garb the men drawing the cart wore. He flashed them a reassuring smile even as he silently chastised himself. Since Louis’ death, the impending invasion, the dauphin’s – _the king’s_ – abduction, Treville’s death and Grimaud’s attack on the wake and the garrison, Aramis couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a moment’s rest, let alone actual sleep. Not that it was an excuse, neither had anyone else. And there was no justification for his senses being so dulled or distracted. He should have heard the cart long before it arrived.

He nodded wearily at the men, forcing himself to focus as he examined the supplies. Faint relief tinged through his exhausted body. The blankets could be used as such or cut up for excess bandages. The wine was of excellent quality, but he wouldn’t hesitate to use it to clean the wounds if possible. The food may not help the injured much yet, but it would ensure those caring for them remained nourished.

“You’re the musketeer named Aramis, right?”

Aramis nodded as the older one tapped his hand against a wooden box. “Her Majesty said to make sure you or Madame D’Artagnan got this. She said it was very important.”

Curious – and longing to have any connection to the woman he loved – Aramis opened the chest. The memories assaulted him as soon as he realised the contents.

_Aramis straightened at the approaching footsteps. “Is there something wrong Your Majesty?” Even as he spoke, he surveyed the area. Her ladies sat on a pleasant grassy hill not far from the carriage, Athos knelt nearby preparing a fire for lunch with the help of the coachmen. D’Artgnan tended to the horses at the stream. Porthos was beside their youngest refilling their waterskins. All of them were as relaxed and unalarmed as could be expected. They had stopped for lunch at a meadow. The road was known to be reasonably safe and the area around them was mostly fields and farms. Any potential threat would be seen for miles._

_“What is that?” He looked down at the box in his hands, tilting it so she could see it better._

_“I use it for provisions Your Majesty. Plants and herbs. Other medical supplies and such.”_

_Worry briefly flickered across her delicate features. “Do you think you’ll need them?”_

_“I doubt it. But some of the plants around us are very useful and I thought I’d collect some. I’d rather have too much than too little and not be able to do anything should we run into trouble.”_

_“Your friends are fortunate to have you.” A warmth washed over him. Even in a simple travelling dress, Queen Anne was still one of the most stunning women he’d laid eyes on. And her smile was no less dazzlingly gracious._

_“I’m the fortunate one. They’ve saved me more times than I can ever repay them.”_

_“No doubt they would say the same of you.” Aramis was vaguely aware that their conversation had once again veered towards questionable ground. He never saw a reason not to flirt with a beautiful woman and the queen was certainly that. His friends might not see it the same way – Athos was already glancing appraisingly at them. He knew why. Though nothing untoward had happened between himself and the queen, their interactions had become more than just those of a soldier and his queen. He knew he should try to stop it but a part of him was flattered at being the queen’s favourite champion. And he was curious, in these moments it was the woman that spoke to him not the monarch. A woman that intrigued him._

_Porthos was now adding his disapproval to the scene. D’Artgnan, bless him, just looked confused. Aramis politely steered the queen’s attention back to their surroundings._

_“Can I help?” He hadn’t quite expected that even with the queen’s characteristic consideration and kindness._

_“You should rest.” She waved his concern away. “No. I’ve been sitting in that carriage for hours and will again. I’d like to do something while I can. You said a lot of these plants were useful, yes?”_

_Aramis could only blink as she summoned her ladies who looked just as shocked at being recruited for foraging herbs. They looked a little more enthusiastic at the realisation they would be taking instruction from_ him _and helping his friends._

_Realising there was little else for him to do he held out a specimen for their examination. “This is yarrow, marigold. It helps with wounds and cuts. These are hollyhock and arnica, they reduce inflammation. Field scabious can treat cuts, burns and bruises. Elderberry acts as a pain relief and can ease respiratory conditions. Feverfew fights fevers and headaches.”_

The yarrow and feverfew were plentiful and mercifully needed. He set aside the elderberry and the field scabious. He’d save those for the worst. Two small pots sat beside the box. He recognised the laudium immediately. The contents of the other pot were only vaguely familiar. The faint scent hit his nose. It was a rare ointment Lemay had once shown him, used for burns and rashes the doctor had said.

“The physician’s on his way.” Aramis nodded absently at the promise.

The medical supplies were expensive. And the ointment, some of the herbs – Aramis doubted most palace servants would know them. Anne had either gotten the Royal Physician to arrange the supplies or she had overseen it herself. The gesture didn’t surprise him, her kindness was always far-reaching and remarkable but even in midst of the turmoil she faced, she took the time to ensure that soldiers sworn to give their lives for her and her son, had medicine and care.

France was lucky to have her as queen regent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a question for you today but thank you to everyone who has read this story. I'm working on a few things at the moment and will hopefully have them up soon, so keep an eye out.


End file.
